Survivor's Guilt
by sorrow and bleus
Summary: The year is 1987. Follow Mollie Chambers, daughter of Chris Chambers, as she tries to find closure after her father's death by getting over-involved with love and danger when she starts hanging out with the new Cobras. Sometimes, tragedy is inevitable.
1. Burned

"_See, as Far as I'm Concerned_

_My life is over._

_My one forever love has been snatched away…_

_I am without a home,_

_without a single person to love._

_And after having_

_discovered love, lived for a short_

_while surrounded by love, _

_this is too much to bear…"_

From Burned by Ellen Hopkins.

**Prologue**

Night was falling in the thick trees. All I could see were his electric blue eyes looking up at me from where he lay desperately on the ground. He grabbed my hand and whispered hoarsely,

"It's time I told you the truth."

"No, Guage," I pleaded. "please. There'll be time for that later. We need to get you help now…"

"Mollie."

I broke down. "Please, no. Let me help you."

"Look at me," he scoffed, motioning at his limp body. "Even if I do make it, I'll never be the same…"

"I don't care. I swear to God I don't care. I just want you," I said weakly.

He looked me in the eyes and hi gaze told me what I knew and what he knew. I flung my head back in desperation, looking up at the blurry trees for the smallest fragment of hope. I looked back down at his beautiful face and said finally,

"The truth."

**Chapter One**

Silver clashes noisily with porcelain as my fork clatters from my hand and knocks against my half-finished plate of food. I push back against the table, the chair skidding on the wooden floor.

"I'm not putting up with this shit."

"Go, then. Run away like your worthless father," spits my uncle, drunk.

I don't respond. I just move as quickly and purposely toward the door as I can. I grab my jacket off the hook and storm out of the house. When I get outside, I pull on my coat, thankful for its warmth. The crisp November wind whips around me, stinging at my cheeks. I smell wood burning and I breathe it in deep. After digging gin my pockets for a minute, I pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I light the end, enjoying the burst of flame and take a long drag off it.

The instant comfort of cigarettes has me hooked. Isn't it ironic how I can't bear the natural task of just causing my chest to continue to rise and fall, yet I remedy this by polluting my chest with toxins? But I don't see it this way. I do what I have to do to survive. I know Dad wouldn't want me to smoke…

I swish my extraneously long hair behind me, lean against the house and smoke until the whole thing is gone and I crush it out with the toe of my dirty black sneaker. Momentarily, I close my eyes and roll my head back. But before I can become lost, the door opens quietly and my cousin Seth comes out. He doesn't even look at me, just heads toward his truck, calling, "Come on," over his shoulder.

I don't even know why I put up with my uncle, who they still call Eyeball, even though his gang days are far over and done with. I don't know why I put up with Seth, who never fails to remind me to call him Axel, a name given to him by his generation's continuation of his father's legendary gang, the Cobras.

I follow him. I haven't a clue where he's going to take me but anywhere has to be better than here. I think back to what I'd have to face if I went back inside: Uncle Eye slumped on the couch, watching whatever on his small color television and my mother, her elbows on the table, a glass of sherry in her hand. When my uncle and I started arguing, she didn't even look up, just took another drink and stared coldly and emptily at her plate.

After the motor finally turns over, I warm my fingers on the heater.

"Sorry bout Dad," Axel says suddenly. "He doesn't really mean it."

"Whatever."

My mind drifted back to the conversation leading up to the fight.

_"How many years has it been now?" he had slurred in my mother's direction._

_"Two," she answered in her deadpan tone. _

_Uncle Eye snorted. "If he'd stayed out of other peoples' business this never would have happened."_

_He looked right at me, as if offering up a challenge. _

_"Even when he was a kid, he always tried to keep the peace," he continued. "He was always meddling around somewhere he didn't belong. The world doesn't need people like that." _

_"Shut up," I muttered under my breath._

_His cold brown eyes bore right into mine. "Chris had it coming. And he deserved what he got."_

_After that…well there was nothing after that. I hadn't stuck around to listen to more of his insults. _

"So, some of the guys are going to be at the diner," Axel said. "Thought you might want to get out of this place for a few hours. Goddamn, I'm nice."

I snorted. "Yeah. Thanks." The members of the gang were just a bunch of arrogant teenagers, if they were the same way as the last time I'd met them over the summer. Their so-called leader was a tall muscular guy nicknamed Guage, and Axel was supposedly second-in-command.

They all had ridiculous names: other than Guage and Axel, whose fathers had fit into the same hierarchy as they did (Guage's father was the former leader, Ace), there were Trigger, Frey, Colt, Jett, Torche and Fender.

The bell over the door to the diner jingled when we walked in. Axel peered casually over the heads of all the seated people before sauntering over to a table in the back where a handful of the guys were sitting. I recognized Guage, but he'd changed. The others, it seemed, had gotten taller and more muscle-bound but their expressions of cool overconfidence were still the same.

They looked up when we arrived. They had all been sitting slouched down with their arms resting nonchalantly on the backs of their chairs. Axel and I pulled over a couple of seats and sat down. I was stuck sitting in a plastic vinyl chair between Axel and Trigger and across from Guage. I placed my elbows on the table impolitely.

My heartbeat was painful, it was like my heart was beating a thousand times harder than it should, like it was working harder just to keep my head up. I could feel my pulse, just by tucking my hair behind one ear and resting my head in my hand. My head ached and throbbed behind my blue eyes. I just wanted a fucking cigarette.

I followed the gang's conversation silently, not feeling up to talking. But I paid attention nonetheless, especially to Guage. The few months between last June and now had changed him. His hair, which before had been long and shaggy, was short and gelled up in little peaks all over his head. I had never noticed his eyes before but they were an icy blue color that I have never seen, and behind them was a cool assurance. There was a chip in one of his front teeth but on him it looked right. He wore a simple white t-shirt and a red flannel jacket.

I would look at him occasionally… But I guess my brief lessons in romantics hadn't taught me enough how to be coy, because to my horror,

"You keep starin at me," he said, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. "Got somethin to say?"

_Asshole. _

"No," I answered.

"Where've you been?" he asked. "You never come around no more."

"I don't know. This year's been pretty rough."

"Come on over here," he commanded. I got up and walked over to him, leaning down.

"_Yeees?_" I asked with false politeness. And then in a surprise move, he reached out a muscular arm and pulled me by the waist onto his lap.

"I give up," I said and leaned back against his warm chest. My heartbeat raced, but for once it didn't seem like my heart was going to fall right out of me. It just felt right.

He held onto me for awhile and both of us continued to talk to the others. I kept zoning out and then I'd get to thinking and that was exhausting. I exhaled deeply during a stall in the conversation. He turned his magic eyes on me. There was a jolt somewhere in my stomach.

"Tell me about you," he said.

"I'm seventeen. Blonde hair, blue eyes, just like my dad's. He died when I was fifteen and now my mom drinks to drown his memories. I need a haircut. My jeans are holeyer than the Bible."

He looked down at my knee where there was a fraying rip and stroked it with his finger. His hands looked tough as calloused… There was an electric leap somewhere inside me.

"And I can't stand Jon Bon Jovi," I added.

He sniggered. "Well, at least you've got your priorities straight, then. Lemme ask you something. Something important."

"Hm?"

"Boxers or briefs?"

"Well… depends on the mood, I'd say."

He laughed openly.

"Okay. Now a question for you," I said.

"Anything."

"Do you have a car?"

"Yes."

"Good. You passed the first test."

"Are there more?" his blue eyes flashed.

"Yes. The next one: get ready. Do you have a light?"

"In my pocket," He winked.

I waited expectantly.

"Oh, am _I_ supposed to get it out?" he feigned curiosity.

I sighed and reached into his hip pocket on the, let's say, close-fitting blue jeans he wore. I felt a couple dollar bills but no lighter. My hand shifted in the opposite direction, coming in contact with _something else_, and I felt his body stiffen. "Other pocket then?" I asked.

"That's the trick," He glinted his eyes at me.

Reaching in the other one, my fingers made contact with a small plastic object, that I knew was a lighter. I took it out and flicked it open, lighting the cigarette I'd taken out of _my_ pocket. I took a drag, instantly comforted.

Guage fingered the fag out of my hand and took a drag off of it, then handed it back. We did this until it finally burned all the way down and he put it out with his black boot.

I became instantly bored and nervous once I didn't have a smoke to occupy me. I took to drawing with my finger on the top of Guage's legs. After awhile his hands started to shake. I noticed and whispered in his ear, "Want me to stop?"

"Never."

"Kay then," I said, writing his name over and over again in a simulation of my loopy print.

"I don't remember your name," Guage whispered to me.

"Mollie Chambers," I answered curtly.

"Guage."

"I know," I said coldly.

"Hey, don't be cruel. How about a little lovin?"

I looked at him. He gave me a winning smile, and I decided that he just wouldn't look as good without that chip there in his front tooth. He smelled wonderful, like aftershave and tobacco. I leaned down a little—

Axel pushed up from the table, hard. "We gotta go, Mollie."

I rolled my eyes. Guage laughed. "Maybe next time," he said.

Axel and I walked across the parking lot in silence. The smell of burning wood still hung in the atmosphere. I breathed it in, and for the rest of my years whenever I smell burning wood I am back in that little diner, sitting on Guage's lap while he thrills me just by speaking and laughing…

The ride how was mostly silent too, with Axel's hands gripping the steering wheel hard, his knuckles white.

"You stay away from Guage," he said finally. "You'll just get hurt."

"Since when do you care?" I replied rudely.

"Whatever, be that way. You'll find out soon enough."

I shifted in my seat so that I was facing the window and he couldn't see my face. "I don't even like him," I said.

"You almost kissed him, you liar!"

"Yeah, damn right I did, until _someone_ had to ruin all the fun."

"You sound like a guy. 'All the fun?' What the hell, Mollie?"

"Let me tell you something about girls: we're not all the same. Some girls go around saying how every guy they've ever dated is a total deucebag and how they just want someone fucking _nice_ but their generic excuse for not going out with someone is that lame 'you're nice but you're just like a brother to me.' It's bullshit is all it is. I don't like him and he doesn't like me, and no one is pretending otherwise but _you_."

This whole rant was superfluous. So what if I did like him, a little?

My eyes darted briefly to his side of the truck. He scoffed. "Girls are all the same," he said. "I can read you like a book, Mol. Don't try to pull one on ol' Axel."

"Go to hell."

He laughed and then I did too.

The house was silent and dark when we got back. We opened the door cautiously so we wouldn't wake anyone up. When we walked into the kitchen, I happened to look over at the table and was surprised, but not entirely shocked, to see my mother sitting there, a glass of amber liquid in her hand and a glazed look on her face.

"We're staying here tonight," she slurred. "I'm in no fit state to drive, Mollie."

I didn't respond, just walked quietly into Axel's room to find a place on the floor. I settled in among what felt like some t-shirts and waited for Axel to come in.

"Your mom's fucked up," he said when he arrived five minutes later.

"No shit," I said.

He laid down. It was quiet in the house, the only noise was an occasional creaking that the house sometimes made. Some nights when I stayed here, I'd go into my uncle's room and just listen to him, because despite the way I acted, I actually loved him infinitely. It was just a simple fact that I loved him better asleep. Some nights I would sleep on the couch in the living room, but I liked being close to Axel because I knew I was safe there.

"Hey," I whispered.

"What?"

"I'm glad I don't have a total assface for a cousin," I said.

"Thanks?" he laughed.

"Anytime."

He chuckled. "You too, kid."

"Thanks…"

I fell asleep fitfully that night. The hole in my chest had somehow gotten bigger, it felt like I had been drawing on the surface of my heart with razorblades… Maybe that was exactly what I was doing. I was drawn to this conclusion because every time I closed my eyes, Guage's smile floated to the surface. His eyes seemed real then.

I rolled over. I finally let Axel's rhythmic breaths lull me into sleeping.

The next morning I woke up stiff and aching all over.

"Uhgg," I groaned. The early light revealed what the night had hidden: the filthy mess that I had used for a bed last night.

"Oh, what the _fuck_," I said out loud after noticing that my "pillow" had been a dirty pair of jeans with what looked like motor oil all over them. Strewn all over the room were a variety of more dirty clothes and, _could it be?_, girls' clothes. I laughed and jumped on his bed.

"You assface," I yelled, pummeling him with my fists and laughing uncontrollably.

He grumbled incoherently and then overpowered me with surprising strength for having just woken up, pinning me to the bed.

"Get off, get off," I screamed and giggled, kicking him.

He flopped back down, letting go of me. "What time is it?" he asked grumpily.

"No idea," I said.

He grunted and sat up. "Come on…"

I followed him and shuffled into the kitchen. With her head on the table, and an empty glass laying sideways next to her head, my mother was slumped asleep. I picked up her wrist and peered at the watch on her arm. 10:24 a.m.

"Almost ten-thirty," I said to Axel, who was keeping his distance. He plopped down in a chair and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His hair was all mussed up and he looked just like he did when we were little.

"Aw, you're so cute," I said. He gave me a strange look. I cleared my throat. "Um. What are you doing today?"

"Oh, I see. Trying to flatter me so I'll take you somewhere?"

"No, actually. But I will if you want me to."

He laughed. "Probably the usual. Why?"

"I'm going with you."

"Says who?"

"Me, dipshit," I retorted.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Why not?" I said, shifting my eyes down to the table.

"Ohhh," he said annoyingly, smiling in a haughty way. His eyebrows flicked upwards and his eyes twitched over my carefully aligned features. "Like a book, Mol, just like a book."

Half an hour later, we were back in his truck, him fiddling with the radio and me wrapped up in a sweatshirt of his, staring silently out the window as the asphalt passed rhythmically under the tires.

He parked along a nondescript sidewalk surrounded by grey buildings where a few other cars were parked.

We got out and after we turned a corner, the gang came into view. I tried to look offhand and leaned up against the wall where Guage was standing.

"Back for more?" he said, low enough for only me to hear.

"You wish," I said, shaking a cigarette out of my pack. "Got a light?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the lighter. He leaned down to light my cigarette, which seemed like and especially sweet gesture, at least for him, but when he did he whispered in my ear, "I expect some repayment for this," his hot breath tingling on my skin.

"You're a fuckin animal whore," I whispered back, but I grinned and he smirked, winked at me and looked back up.

They talked about girls. They talked about cars. They talked about girls some more. And then they talked about, well, I don't know, actually. I was a mite preoccupied.

I started chain smoking. My back was leaned against the brick alley wall and my legs were crossed in front of me. My faded blue jeans looked so good with _Guage's _faded blue jeans…

"We need some more fuckin pills," Guage said suddenly.

"Get some then," sneered Frey.

"Shut the fuck up," Guage said. "I will. Come on, Mollie."

Guage turned to leave. He pulled my arm and we walked past the others until we turned a corner, when he pulled me close to him, his arm around my waist.

"What do you think you're doing?" I asked politely, smiling up at him.

"Wouldn't want people to think we're up to no good, would we?" He smirked. "Just a couple walkin down the street."

"Oh, we're a couple now? Didn't get the memo."

He nodded, unconcerned.

We walked a few blocks until we came to a shady-looking guy leaning on the corner. He and Guage greeted each other. "What you got for me, Locke, man?" asked Guage.

"Whatever you like," he said. "For a fee." His eyes lingered on my face and then my chest.

"Watch it, man," Guage said fiercely, following his gaze.

"Hey, sorry," said Locke, an evil glint in his eyes. "Didn't know you were so touchy about your bitches."

Before I (or Locke, apparently) knew what happened, Guage's fist was flying through the air and landing squarely on his jaw. More punches flew from Guage before the guy even had a chance to think about fighting back. Guage kicked him to the ground. His head lolled and a trickle of blood seeped from his nose. He started to sit up but Guage's boot met him in the face and his head went down again.

"Check his pockets for cash," he instructed me gruffly. I did as I was told. There was a wad of bills in one and Guage put something in his pocket from the other.

"Come on," he said when we were done. We left quickly.

"So where's that car of yours parked?" I inquired curiously.

"Up the street."

"Tell me about it."

"What do you want to know?"

"How big's the backseat?" I asked. He looked down at me, his eyebrows flying upwards. He gave me a toothy smile.

"This is wrong," I gasped ten minutes later, lying on my back, topless, in the backseat of his car. Guage's lips kissed mine. His hands were tangled in my hair.

I pressed him closer to me and tugged his shirt over his head, kissing him back feverishly.

"No one has to know," he said breathlessly.

I moaned and his fingers traveled lower to the top of my jeans. He clumsily unbuttoned the clasp and unzipped them. I did the same to his and before long, we were exposed.

There is skin, there are bones, and there are hands. His skin was so warm on mine that it almost burned. Tremors traveled up and down my spine when he touched me, when he kissed me that way…

Fifteen minutes later, we both lay winded, our chests moving up and down steadily, gleaming with perspiration.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

"Yeah," he exhaled and then smiled conceitedly. "Liked that, did you?"

"Fuck you," I teased.

"Okay," he said and dived onto me.

"They're gonna wonder where we are…" I trailed off as his warm hands made circles on my skin.

"Let em wonder," he said absentmindedly. I kissed his bare chest.

Lower, lower.

Higher.

We finally managed to get back to where we'd come from. He opened his door and got out. I turned to open mine but it wouldn't cooperate. He sighed exasperatedly and walked around the car to open it for me. He did and then turned to walk away.

"Try to keep up," he called to me over his shoulder.

I got in step with him. "What is it with you?"

"What?" he asked.

"You're so fuckin cold."

He stopped then and turned to face me. His eyes were smoldering with fire. Passion or rage. But not cold, no, I must have mistaken their rage and love? and sorrow for arrogance. Maybe that's what he wanted.

He placed his hands on either side of my face. They were radiating warmth. He took a look into my eyes with his flaming blues and kissed me fully and tenderly, pressing me against the brick wall behind us. His wet lips moved over my lips. Guage's eyes were open the whole time, still burning fire into mine. He pulled away and looked at me.

"Now will you shut up?" he asked and turned to walk away again.

"Yeah," I said to his back and walked faster to catch up to where he was hunched against the wind, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down.


	2. Seventeen Forever

"_You are young and so am I _

_and this is wrong, _

_but who am I to judge? _

_You feel like heaven when we touch…_

_We're one mistake from being together._

_It looks right, ask why it's not right. _

_You won't be seventeen forever, _

_and we can get away with this tonight…_

_And I can feel your heartbeat,_

_you know exactly where to take me…_

'_Will you remember me?' you ask me as I leave._

_Remember what I said, 'Oh how could I, oh how could I forget?'"_

From "Seventeen Forever" by Metro Station. Words by Trace Cyrus, et al.

**Chapter Two**

When we turned the corner, the alley was empty.

"Must've gone to the pool hall…" said Guage coolly. "You want to?"

"Yes," I said. "but I can't. I should probably go home… school in the morning…"

He grimaced. "You're going to school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I have to go every few days so they won't send me to, like, boot camp or something. Are you going?"

"Hell no."

"Oh," I looked down at my shoes. I turned to leave. "Well, gotta go."

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked me intensly.

"Going home?"

"What, are you gonna walk?"

"Umm, yeah."

"Bullshit. Get in the car," he said.

I turned around and walked over to his car, opening the door and sliding in the seat. He drove silently, the only sound was the radio, turned down and playing some Zeppelin song. I directed him to my house. He parked in front and let the engine idle.

"Something wrong?" I asked him. I didn't want to get out of the car. I didn't want to leave his presence. I was afraid; deathly afraid of what I'd have to face without him there.

He looked at me analytically. "No," he said slowly. Then he reached over me—his warm arm brushing against me—and extracted a napkin and a Sharpie from the glove compartment. He scribbled something onto it and handed it to me, giving me a meaningful look in the eyes. "Call me if you need me."

I nodded. I didn't want to look away from him, but I had to. I sighed and turned to the door, opening it. I stood up and got out. "Bye," I said sadly.

He nodded and looked ahead. I shut the door and watched his car drive away. I walked slowly up the steps leading to the front door and pulled my key out of my jeans pocket, unlocked the door and stepped inside. Even though it was warm inside, I felt cold. I felt like I'd never be warm again until I was looking at Guage. I cast my eyes down to the ground and shuffled to my room. I threw back the door. It was a mess in there.

Somehow, my house, my room, my everything was different than it had been before Guage. Even though I'd really only known him less than two days, I was starting to see a line forming in the timeline of my young life: _Before Guage_ and _After Guage_. _After Guage_ was so much more resplendent. I kicked off my shoes and laid down on my bed, exhausted. I closed my eyes. Sleep was pulling me downwards…

I woke up at four o' clock that morning. I sat up and pulled my fingers through my hair. I needed a shower. No one was home, I discovered. This wasn't usual for either my mother or my brother: my mother was probably passed out somewhere and my brother was a volunteer firemen, often taking late-night, all-night jobs over in Portland.

The water rained down on the shower floor. I turned it to cold and stepped in. My skin tightened and goose bumps broke out all over me. I tossed my head back, ignoring the numbing, painful cold. Cold water cascaded down my feverish head, neck and chest and I took deep breaths. When I exited the shower, I was too tired to do anything but yawn lazily, blowdry my hair and put on minimal makeup, and this was only because I might see Guage later. I got dressed in my usual flannel shirt and holey blue jeans. It was five-thirty. I still had lots of time on my hands. I flopped down on the plushy couch. Despite the fact that my mother was basically good for nothing and couldn't hold down a job because she always showed up smelling like a brewery, we lived in a nice house and had nice things. This was haunting, it was cruel.

My father had been a successful attorney until he'd been killed. He always gave us what we wanted… We were so content. Until it happened. There was no _happy_ after that. This was another division in my life: _With Dad_ and _Without Him._ My eyes had barely closed, drifting to that magic moment when the world disappears into dream, and it's so strange you're seeing it all and won't remember a thing. When they opened again, I checked the clock: seven. I stood up and stretched, grabbed my key and bag and left. I started the walk to school with dread. My eyes were tired; I could feel them sagging, knowing I looked like the living undead.

I pushed open the heavy oak door to school. I smelled the chlorine from the pool. The metal lockers surrounded me and the linoleum floor squeaked under my sneakers. 101, 103, 105. 107. I turned and entered homeroom. I walked to the back of the room and slouched in the last seat in the last row. No one sat next to me, just the way I liked it. I didn't really know anyone's name and they didn't know me. I put my head on the desk and tried to sleep, to escape.

I heard footsteps and the sound of a body collapsing in the chair next to me. I opened my eyes slowly and looked over. There sat Frey, looking down at me, probably to make sure I was still breathing.

"Hey," I said. This was maybe the third time I'd talked to someone in this school.

"Hey," he said. His voice was deep and gravelly.

"Why're you here?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound offensive.

"He asked me to come for the day and then he'd take you home."

"Guage?"

"Who else?"

I sat back in my seat. Did he think I couldn't take care of myself? Why was he sending me a fucking babysitter?

"You can go home," I told him. "I can take care of myself."

He looked anxious. "Sorry. But I gotta stay. Don't be insulted; he doesn't mean anything bad by it."

"Course he doesn't."

The morning was torturous. I had to sit through three classes. Teachers' voices droned on but I gleaned not one scrap of knowledge. The halls would fill up and empty between them but they gained nothing despite this. It was monotonous. I wanted a cigarette, and I was very grumpy. Frey kept casting sideways glances my way.

When I sat down in fourth period, in the back as usual, I noticed that he wasn't beside me. I sighed in relief. Thinking I'd lost him, I silently commended myself, smiling. Then someone sat down next to me. I looked over, annoyed again, only to see Guage sitting there. He was like a piece of my own personal heaven, perfect in every way, from his boots to his legs looking unnatural sitting in the little desk, to the way his muscles twitched in his arms when he moved. He looked at me. He didn't look happy.

"I thought you weren't coming," I whispered. He shrugged.

"I wanna get out of here." He scowled.

"_So, each of you needs to find a partner and go down to the media centre to get one book per pair. You have a half an hour so use your time wisely,_" said the teacher, an old woman with big hair. _What was her name?_

I grinned at Guage. "Looks like we've got a golden opportunity."

He grinned back. We walked casually from the room and then skidded out the hallway. When we reached the door, it was like our own gateway to freedom. Our feet hit the concrete outside and we ran down the sidewalk in front of the school. We laughed wildly. There was no point in running, really; we would've gotten away anyway but there's something to be said of running just to run, laughing just to laugh, and feeling like flying.

I felt like flying. When I was with Guage, there were no limits. The short time I'd known him, coupled with the even shorter time I'd been away from him made heightened the double sense of falling and flying when I was around him.

There was like a magic radiating from his skin, a sort of connection unbreakable. A desire unexplainable.

We settled in his car. When we caught our breath finally, he looked at me. He smiled. I smiled back. He leaned over and kissed my lips. I melted. This was better than anything.

Better than any other feeling he'd given me. Better than our backseat adventures. This, this eyes-closed, lips moving, hands touching kind of kiss. This was the best thing I had experienced. I melt into him and he leans into me. Everything is wrapped up in this moment, this is all that's real. I hold onto it. It is everything that is real. It alone is real. It is everything.

"Where to now?" he asked.

"Anywhere."

"Everyone's down at the pool hall, I think. I know it's disappointing, but we should make sure we're actually seen during the light of day. Wouldn't want to come off rude," he smirked.

I laughed. "Course not. Shame the car ride isn't longer, though."

"I'll go slow," He winked.

I reached for his right hand, which wasn't holding onto the steering wheel. I covered it with my hand; it was warm and tough and I weaved my fingers into his. He looked at me and smiled confusedly.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"_What_?"

"Seriously, nothing. Just… that's never happened before," he admitted shamefully.

"I don't believe you."

"Well, believe it. I usually just bring them home at night and they're gone the next day."

He didn't inflect any sadness into his voice, but it broke my heart all the same. I willed myself not to cry. He was so beautiful.

"That doesn't need to, you know, be mentioned to anyone," he added huskily.

I snorted. "Who would I tell?"

"I don't know. Like, your girlfriends or something."

"I don't have any," I said quietly.

He looked at me. "Why?"

"After Dad died, I became completely reclusive. I didn't want to talk to anyone at all. I used to sit alone at lunch and just stare at my food. They would try to talk to me but I'd just ignore them. They figured, well, she's just sad cause of her dad, and they put up with it for a few months," I explained. "but after that they just forgot about me. I was just that weird girl with the long hair who everyone had to feel sorry for cause her dad was dead. So begins my detachment."

He just looked at me silently and then diverted his eyes back to the road. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It doesn't matter."

He didn't answer. The car slowed down and stopped. He parked it and got out. This time he waited for me to walk over to him and put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him and kissing me on the head. I put my arm around his shoulders. For a moment, for just a split second, not even a flash of lightning, it was like we were holding each other up.

The air in the pool hall was warm and the place was almost deserted, except for members of the gang who were playing pool on one of the tables, the others watching, reclined and drinking beer.

Guage swaggered up to the bar and ordered two long-necks.

He thrust one into my hands and the top frothed when I opened it. It was cool as it went down, and while I wasn't inebriated, it certainly took a little of the edge off. I wasn't confined by my inhibitions anymore. I wasn't the lost little girl with hurt in her eyes. I was just there, I felt more normal than I had for months. I leaned against a table next to Axel, watching Guage lean down over the pool table, poised, his silhouette flawless.

I took another drink. Axel looked over at me. His brown eyes were like his father's, but warm. Of course, he preferred to look haughty over warm, but there was no denying him.

"Seth," I said quietly.

He looked over at me. "What?" he asked icily.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked, taking a drink.

"No," he said curtly.

"Good," I said. "cause you have no reason to be."

He glared at me and took a drink out of his own bottle of sparkling brown liquid. "You don't know what you're getting into. This gang thing's a mess. And it's dangerous."

"I'm fine," I said. "I can fight my own battles, Seth."

"Axel. And the hell you can, neither."

I sighed. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Be that way," he said arrogantly.

"You're such a teenage girl. Grow up."

He pushed off the table and walked away to join the pool game. Guage handed him his pool stick as he passes and comes over to join me.

"What was that all about?" he asks quietly.

"What was what about?"

He gives me a withering look. "Don't bullshit me, girl. What were you arguing with Axel about?"

"He's being stupid. I love him to death, but I swear to God, he's a fuckin dumbass."

"Where'd you learn to talk like that?" he asked me in false concern, kissing my cheek.

"I'm a mess."

"You're my mess," he corrected.

"Look at me. How can you want me? I'm just a fucked up, lost little girl with no parents, nothing. I can hardly breathe, I'm sad all the time, I smoke like a train and I have nothing that would be worth staying for."

"You are beautiful," he said for only me to hear. The words sounded foreign out of his usually cocky mouth. I moved closer and felt his warmth on my arm.

"I wish I could believe you," I said, yawning.

"Tired?"

"Yeah, I've been up since, like, five this morning."

"Why? I didn't wake up till eleven," he chuckled.

"I don't sleep good," I said, fatigued.

"Then sleep with me." He grinned.

I got up and stretched. "I'm sorry," I said. "I know I've only been here like an hour. But I want to go get some rest."

He stood up too. "I'm okay walking," I said quickly.

"No," was his firm response.

So a few more minutes with Guage. I tried to savor the moments, but it does no good. Cause you can love being with someone, you can want to stay with them forever and hang onto them for as long as you can but in the end, you have to go. And you can't get the minutes back. You can't retrace their face again with your eyes. You can't get it back. There's no way to get it back. It seems impossible, a mistake, a glitch that has to be corrected but it's not. Time goes on and it won't stop as much as we'd like it to, as much as I wanted it to right then.

"Are you going back to the hall after this?" I questioned him.

"Nah," he said.

"Where then?"

"Home."

"Take me there," I said, hoping it wouldn't be rude of me.

He looked at me and took a deep breath.

"What is it? Was that rude?"

"No, no. But Dad will be home soon and he's dangerous this time of night."

"I feel safe."

He looked worried. "Okay…" His muscles tensed on the wheel but this only confirmed my feeling of total safety.

When we got to the small house, it was empty. "Not home from work yet," he explained.

We went up to his room, which was small, mostly comprising of a mattress laying in the middle of the floor and a few piles of clothes around it. I positioned myself above the mattress and fell onto it. Guage came over and laid beside me.

"Just how tired are you?" he asked provocatively.

"Never too tired for you, baby," I said lazily.

He was above me, kissing my face. My neck. And kissing the buttons open on my top, uncovering me. I helped him and slid out of my jeans. He took off his shirt, his strong chest standing out against the white of the wall behind him. He had perfect hands and they moved down to his belt. I put my arms around him.

"Love me, love me," I cried desperately, a few moments later, his warmth all around and inside me.

"I do," he said passionately. "I always have."

My heartbeat was quickening. I felt a warmth spreading and my muscles tense and contracted. I tossed my head back, moaning.

I felt him filling me. "I always will," he said, his voice breaking, falling on top of me again, kissing me.

I kissed back, hardly breathing. This was more than I'd ever felt in my life. With him there, so close to me, nothing else in the world mattered. With his arms so tender and strong, I could walk through fire, I could stare in the eye of death, I could face any battle. Even on my saddest day, I will never be able to deny my love for him. As long as he was there, as long as I could feel him around me, on me, inside me, standing next to me, then there was nothing I couldn't face: no day too unbearable, no fight too difficult.

I could not return to who I was before. I was changed forever. It was one of those moments where everything changes, though I didn't realize it then, as no one ever does. With the beat of a heartbeat, the blink of an eye, everything is different.

I was completely, unreturnably, permanently and wholly in love with him.


End file.
